You Did What?
by Burnee14
Summary: "Magnus, come on. Can't we at least talk about this? Like two grown men?" he was pleading now. There was a very loud and very derisive snort from within their bedroom. He took that as a definitive 'maybe'. He was being optimistic. Or: The Domestic Drabble where Alexander Gideon Lightwood may or may not have to bake (of all things) to atone for his most grievous sin.


**I posted this one a while back on AO3 but realised I hadn't posted it here! So, here it is! Just another fun little one shot, part of my Malec domestic drabbles series. There's too much angst in the show at the moment (like in a good way though), so here's some PURE FLUFF. Enjoy! Comments very welcome :)**

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"Magnus?" Alec called, walking quickly towards the door, trying to catch up to the _surprisingly_ agile warlock. "Magnus, please wait-"

His progress was halted by the hard-oak bedroom door, which had been promptly slammed in his face. He reached down to turn the handle, only to find it locked.

"Magnus, please. I'm _sorry_ ," he said, running a hand through his hair and then pounding against the door.

It remained shut.

"Magnus, come on. Can't we at least _talk_ about this? Like two grown men?" he was pleading now.

There was a very loud and very derisive snort from within their bedroom. He took that as a definitive ' _maybe_ '. He was being optimistic.

"I get that I'm in the metaphorical doghouse right now," Alec sighed. "But you're not _wholly_ innocent in all this-"

He didn't get to finish, because at that exact second a loud crash sounded from the lounge. Alec jumped a foot into the air, terrified that Mr Catkins had finally decided to make an appearance, and turned to see that a rather small wooden _house(?)_ had materialised next to the blue sofa. Two seconds later, a metal bowl filled with water landed next to it, sloshing over to dampen the newly laid carpet. That trauma was promptly followed by what appeared to be a pile of dog biscuits, garnished with a red bow.

 _By the Angel_ , had he screwed up this time.

"Okay, fine," Alec said, turning back around, pointing at the closed door and the man behind it. "I'm going to find a way to make it up to you… Bringing up the previous _incident_ was a low blow, I admit, I shouldn't have done that. Though, of course, I hasten to mention that when the roles were reversed, I forgave _you_ -"

Another bang sounded. Alec quickly swivelled to see that the very _literal_ doghouse was now half its original size and a shocking shade of neon pink.

Well that was _very_ mature.

"Ok," Alec conceded, slightly wide-eyed at the prospect of forcing his long limbs to contort in such a way as to allow him within his allotted accommodation. "Ok. You've made your point. You just stay… well in there, I guess."

There, _he_ was being reasonable. _He_ was acting like the _mature_ , _accomplished_ individual that he was.

He quickly pivoted on his heel and marched into the lounge. What could he do? What could he do? He could ask Catarina to remove the hour-long betrayal from his memories… Though that _could_ result in severe memory loss… Probably not worth the risk… He could move to Argentina and become an exotic goat farmer high up in the mountains… But that felt a little like admitting defeat… And he didn't particularly like goats. Something about them unnerved him… That was getting hopelessly off topic.

He was about to leave the loft, walk down to the nearest animal shelter, and pick up another cat (for adopting cats always seemed to solve their problems), when he realised he was dressed in his pyjamas. And all his spare clothes were in the room currently closed to him. And all the animal shelters would likely be closed anyway at that time of night. That ruled out going outside. Or bribing his boyfriend into forgiveness with cute, fluffy animals. Damn.

He swore under his breath, realising he could not escape the mortification he was about to consciously bring down and upon himself. He had been left with _no_ choice, he reasoned, and picked up his phone.

Isabelle answered on the second ring. "Hey, big brother, I thought you were at the loft tonight? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I am…" he huffed. "And I don't know."

The phone was silent for a good ten seconds whilst he deliberated on how best to relay his piteous story of woe and betrayal when Izzy cut in, "Ever the cryptic. But I'm afraid our sibling bond doesn't extend to telepathy, Alec. Is there anything I can help you with? Can I get you anything?"

He didn't appear to register her suggestive tone or the veiled implication behind her questioning.

"I don't know, maybe? Look, Iz, I screwed up. But you've got to understand that there were _dragons_. And he's done it to me before. And I know that doesn't make it okay: an eye for an eye and all that. But _I_ wasn't all that fussed when _he_ did it, if I'm being perfectly honest. He just watched it again with me. But anyway- a couple of the new recruits were watching it at The Institute, and I'd just finished up six hours of paperwork and I'd be more than willing to watch it again with him if only he'd list-"

"Alec. I'm going to stop you right there. If you've done what I _think_ you've done, then I don't really know what I can do for you. Yes, you're my brother, but I can't really take sides in this. _This_ is grounds for divorce."

"We're not married, Izzy, for the _last time_. We've only been dating a month."

"Which makes your betrayal _all the more serious_. All good relationships are built on trust Alec, and you have just betrayed Magnus' in one of the _worst_ possible ways. If my boyfriend did _that_ to me, I don't think I could ever forgive him. _Ever_." It sounded like she was supressing… _laughter_?

"Isabelle Lightwood THIS IS NOT FUNNY. And you don't even have a boyfriend."

"It kind of is. And do you want my help or not? Because taunting me about my lack of a love life- "

He heard a scuffling on the other end of the line, murmured voices, then an outraged gasp: " _He did WHAT?_ " And suddenly he was being yelled at down the phone by an _incredibly_ irate Parabatai.

" _YOU DID WHAT?!_ _ALEXANDER GIDEON LIGHTWOOD_ , you go and apologise to your sparkly, magical warlock boyfriend _RIGHT THIS SECOND_."

Alec held his mobile away from his ear, wincing. "I heard you the first time, and I've tried to apologise, Jace," he said, raising his voice slightly. "He won't hear it."

He heard another clatter from the lounge. The doghouse now had a white picket-fence around it.

"What was that?" Jace asked.

"Cat," Alec said by way of answer.

"That didn't sound like a cat."

"Yeah? Well, The Chairman is _special_ ," he said, suddenly feeling the need to defend Magnus's (or was it _their?_ ) pet. "Cats actually have incredibly – um – adaptable vocal capabilities-"

"I am not having this conversation right now," Jace promptly shushed him. It sounded like he was pacing. "I've heard of a case like this before," he said, as if discussing a deadly disease and not a _mild misunderstanding_. "It's the only way."

" _Jace give the phone back, come on_." He could hear Izzy again. It sounded as though she was trying, and failing, to jump up and _take_ it back. Alec knew she was more than capable of flooring Jace if she really wanted to.

Alec sighed, _melodramatically_ , and gave a hearty eye-role for good measure; too hopelessly _dejected_ to do anything but go along with his brother's scheme. "Tell me, Jace. I'm getting desperate," he said, wallowing in all his self-pity.

"You, Alec Lightwood, my beautifully _stupid_ brother and parabatai, have failed to show restraint when you needed it most; you have betrayed the trust of your future husband; you have dishonoured the arrangement that you two lovingly crafted _together_. Yes, there may be dragons involved. But is that an excuse?"

"Yes," Alec mumbled.

"NO. IT IS NOT," Jace finished. "And so you, Alec Lightwood, Head of the New York Institute, Shadowhunter, Descendent of Jonathan Shadowhunter, the first Shadowhunter, Slayer of Azazel, and first of his name-"

"I hate you," Alec said.

Jace continued, unperturbed. "… must bake," he paused for dramatic effect. "… _an apology cake_."

Alec received _some_ satisfaction in the knowledge that his little sister managed to get her phone back two seconds later. He felt that Jace's hoarse cry of pain in some way made up for his… lack of _tact_.

Despite all this, that was _exactly_ how Magnus found Alec some half an hour later: in the middle of the kitchen, an apron half-tied around his waist, a domestic _god_ if it weren't for the fact that he was covered, from head to toe, in butter cream, jam, flour and, to Magnus's confusion, cocoa powder (an ingredient that didn't actually appear to be in the cake itself). Icing sugar had also, somehow, found its way into his dark hair, streaking it white.

Alec turned, smiling sheepishly, as soon as Magnus entered the kitchen, holding out the most precariously stacked sponge cake Magnus had ever seen.

And, in a messy scrawl atop the cake, in luminous blue icing, were the words: _Magnus, I'm sorry I watched_ Game of Thrones _without you._

"You didn't seriously bake me an apology cake?" Magnus asked, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

Alec didn't need to know that he'd forgiven him some half an hour earlier. Not yet.

Alec shifted his weight, still holding the cake out before him like it held the answers to all his prayers. "I felt the situation warranted it."

Magnus did smile then. "You're an idiot."

" _Yes?_ " Alec conceded, before smiling almost shyly. "But I'm _your_ idiot… If you'll take me back."

"Hmm…" Magnus mused, stepping towards him, finger to his chin. "I think I'll have to try the cake first. I can't go forgiving people left, right and centre for their atrocities without at least properly judging their _efforts_ at repentance. I'm afraid I can't give you preferential treatment. I didn't speak to Catarina for near on… 5 months, I believe it was. She went to see _Clueless_ without me at the cinema."

It was more like two days, but that was strictly _need-to-know_. The point was, such a betrayal was _worth_ five months of silence.

Alec nodded as if this made perfect sense to him. "I understand completely. The quality of the apology cake would, naturally, be the best indicator of the _genuineness_ of the apology."

Magnus grabbed a knife and fork from one of the draws, and summoned up two plates with a snap of his fingers. Blue sparks danced around his hands as he did so. (They may have been more for show than necessity. He was a bit extra. Sue him.) He cut a slice for each of them.

"Alexander," he said, hesitating. "Before I- dig in. I just have to check one quick thing."

Alec nodded his head for him to continue.

"That recipe you were following. _Whose_ , exactly, is it?"

Alec chuckled. "It's not Isabelle's. I promise. I wouldn't wish _that_ on anybody. That would be a fate worse than… well Joffrey Baratheon's death. But likely more painful." He winced, as if remembering such an experience.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Is it not a little early to be making _references_?"

Alec had the good grace to look embarrassed.

Magnus picked up a fork then, prised off a piece of sponge from the larger slice and squinted at it.

"The apology seems to hold its shape well. The ratio of regret to remorse, near perfect," he said, gesturing first to the jam and then to the buttercream and putting on a ridiculously bad British accent. "No soggy bottom, good layers (pronounced 'lerrs'), nice golden finish–"

"I should never have let you watch that program–"

"Hush now. We don't talk about _it_. That _program_ betrayed my trust as a loyal viewer; selling themselves to the highest bidder like some prized pony. The scandal. They were rioting in the streets over the ocean. The queen herself refused to return."

"Magnus, for the last time, Mary Berry is _not_ the queen of England."

"Well, she should be. She'd have my vote."

"You know that's not how it works-" But Magnus had just placed the cake in his mouth, and Alec was too gods-damn nervous for his impending judgement to continue his review of British politics and BBC program rights.

"Hmm…" Magnus mused. He had another mouthful. And another. And then frowned. Chewed some more.

Alec was barely breathing. "Well?" he squeaked out.

" _Well_ , Alexander. It's not nearly as terrible as I was expecting it to be." Magnus was actually quite shocked at just how _good_ it was. Teach him to make assumptions.

Alec just stared at him, awaiting further critique. He'd managed to smudge a line of buttercream along his jawline, and hell if _that_ wasn't distracting.

"But is it enough to keep you in the competition?" Magnus pondered. He was enjoying this far too much.

Alec huffed out a breath before reaching out and taking Magnus's fork from him, skewering his own bit of cake, and shovelling it into his mouth. He chewed on it slowly, carefully. "It's probably one of the better apology cakes I've made in my life."

"Oh really?" Magnus said, taking another step towards Alec, so that his boyfriend was forced to take a step back. He was now pressed up against the counter. "Do you make a habit of television-cheating on your significant others?"

Alec blushed then and quickly averted his hazel eyes. Magnus grinned in triumph. "Alexander?" he prompted.

Alec sighed and ate another chunk of cake, as if mentally steeling himself for the confession to come. "Once," he said. "It was a long time ago. And I'm not proud of it… Have you ever heard of that TV show, _Friends_?"

Magnus simply nodded, positively gleeful. It was one of his favourite shows, actually, and he delighted in knowing that it was another thing he had in common with Alexander. His shadowhunter kept surprising him in the most marvellous of ways. He'd have to dig out his ten season box-set.

"Well… I watched it with Izzy every week," Alec continued, a soft smile on his face. "It was before Jace came to The Institute, before Max was born. So it was just the two of us. And the smallest television you'd ever seen…" He paused, caught up in the memory. He seemed to shake himself free. "Anyway, one week, Izzy went to Alicante with our mother, so it was just me. And… I watched it without her." He winced.

"Oh, Alexander," Magnus said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"No, Mags, you don't understand. It wasn't just _any_ episode. It was…" he hushed his voice to a whisper, so that Magnus had to lean forward to hear him. " _The One with the_ _Prom Video_."

Magnus made a chocking sound, because the Angel help him, that was his favourite episode.

"You mean to tell me, Alexander, that you watched one of the GREATEST Ross and Rachel episodes to ever air, without your sweet younger sister? With whom you shared the sacred TV partner pact?"

"Yes," Alec winced again. "And it gets even worse."

"How could it possibly get any worse?"

"I spoiled it for her," Alec yelped.

"You didn't!" Magnus exclaimed, feeling truly sorry for the younger Isabelle that he had conjured in his mind's eye.

"I _did_ ," Alec whispered. "We were having a fight. She'd just gotten back from Idris and hadn't had a chance to see it yet. I can't even remember what we were fighting about. It just… came out. The worst part is, I don't even know if she remembers!" Alec looked so horrifyingly guilty by the time he'd finished, that Magnus couldn't help but take pity on him.

"Isn't that a blessing?"

"You would think so, but no. I've grown up with that guilt, the guilt of _spoiling_. Izzy may not remember, but _I do_ ," he finished dramatically, eyes wide.

"Well, Alexander," Magnus said, smiling up at him. "At least in our case, it's not like we've been watching it _live_. We're just playing catch-up. It's not like you watched the _best_ episode without me. It was one of those filler episodes… I think."

"Yeah, but Magnus. Game of Thrones is _Game of Thrones_."

"Do you want to be forgiven or not, because you're currently doing a very good job of talking yourself _out_ of-"

"Yes!" Alec cut him off. "Yes, I want your forgiveness. Please forgive me."

"Okay then," Magnus said, reaching out to take Alec's hands in his own. "Alexander Gideon Lightwood, I deem your apology cake to be genuine and your remorsefulness true. I'm afraid I couldn't possibly kick you out now; if not for my sake, then for the poor Chairman's. He would miss you _too_ much. His attachment is _too_ great. And I am in no position to look after an aggrieved cat– not after what happened the last time." He winked at his boyfriend, as said boyfriend turned a beautiful shade of red. "But… If the offense written on the given apology cake should ever be committed _again_ … I may have to forgo the Chairman's wishes for you to remain a _permanent_ fixture here."

Alec blinked in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Magnus suddenly looked nervous. He withdrew his hands, reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small key. He held it in his palm in front of him, as if weighing it. "I mean, Alexander," he said, still looking down at the key, "that you could move in. If you wanted to? Properly? I know you're already here most of the time, and that it might be slightly inconvenient for you as Head of The Institute… But I could portal you every day. There and back. And I know it has only been a month," he said frowning slightly, as though the realisation had only just come over him, "but I can't really imagine this place without _you_ in it-"

"Magnus-"

"And of course, you don't have to say yes. Don't feel obligated to. It's just, I've had the key for some time– It took me twenty odd minutes just now to find it–"

"Magnus. Stop."

Magnus finally raised his eyes to find Alexander staring at him with such adoration in his eyes that he almost stopped breathing. Alec reached out and joined their palms so that the key sat in between them. "Why now?" he asked.

Magnus swallowed. "I figured that, given what transpired tonight, I had the upper-hand. And that you'd be less likely to say _no_ as a result of an already guilty conscience."

"You really thought I would say no?" Alec asked, a beautiful smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I-"

"You're an idiot."

Magnus laughed incredulously at the situation he now found himself in. "I may well be that," he said, closing the distance between them, placing his hands on Alec's hips. "But I'm _your_ idiot."

And, with their faces mere inches apart, he leant forward… and licked the buttercream off Alec's jaw.

After a couple of minutes of a _very_ heated and competitive food war (Magnus ended up with half a packet of flour in his hair and a particularly large smear of buttercream on his right eyebrow, much to Alec's delight) they retired to the couch with large slices of apology cake and hot chocolate (Magnus proclaimed it was much too late for coffee).

So what if they stayed up for the next five hours anyway, snuggled up on the sofa, watching reruns of _Friends_?

The Chairman had taken up residence in the doghouse and _Game of Thrones_ lay temporarily abandoned off to one side. And no, Magnus thought, he wasn't going to tell Alexander that he'd already watched it up to season five before they'd started dating. He didn't need to know.


End file.
